On this limited page
I can make no wide sweep of brush stroke
no blush of color
to show my heart.

No swing of my arm can influence your understanding of this poem.

Where, in a painting, you may see may
anger pouring red with movement
or joyous bubbles blue and yellow
floating here and        there
(from a physical reality manifest)
((the great symbolscape))
in these words are only
logic
and what you have learned
puzzle-pieced and put in this box
for your own construction.

Still,
in these words is all I may ever feel,
and though you may not have the faculty of
direct exploration
into my body-mind thru them,
their depth reaches beyond the containment
of any canvas.